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To win me from his tender arms

Unnumber'd suitors came, Their chief pretence my flatter'd charms,

My wealth perhaps their aim.

Each hour the mercenary crowd

With glitt'ring proffers ftrove; Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,

Who offer'd only love.

In humble simplest habit clad,

No wealth nor power had he; Wisdom and worth were all he had,

But these were all to me.

Whene'er he spoke amidst the train,
How would my

heart attend ! And fill delighted e'en to pain,

How figh for such a friend !
And when a little reft I sought

In sleep's refreshing arms,
How have I mended what he taught

And lent him fancied charms !

Yet still and hapless be the hour,

I spurn'd him from my side,
And still with ill dissembled power,

Repaid his love with pride.

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Till, quite dejected with my scorn,

He left me to deplore,
And sought a solitude forlorn,

And ne'er was heard of more.

!

Then since he serish'd by my fault,

This pilgrimage I pay,
I'll seek the solitude he fought,

And stretch me where he lay.

And there in Melt'ring thicket hid,

l'll linger till I die;. 'Twas thus for me my lover did,

And so for him will I.

Thou shalt not thus, the hermit cried,

And clasp'd her to his brealt:
Th' allonilh'd fair-onc turn'd to chide;

'Twas Eiwin's fulf that preft.

For now no longer could he hide

What first to hide he itrove ;
His looks resume their youthful pride,

and Huth with honeit love.

Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

My charmer, turn to see
Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here,

Reito;'d to love and chce.

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Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

And every care refign,
And shall we never, never part,

My thou, my all that's mine.

No, never from this hour to part,

Our love shall still be new,
And the last figh that rends thy heart

Shall break thy Edwin's too.

Here amidst streams and bow'rs we'll rove,

From lawn to woodland ftray, Bleft as the songsters of the grove,

And innocent as they.

To all that want, and all that wail,

Our pity Thall be given,
And when this life of love shall fail,

We'll love it o'er in heav'n,

FABLES

FABLES. By Mr. Moore,

The NIGHTINGALE and GLOW-WORM.

T '

HE prudent nymph, whose cheeks disclose

The lilly, and the blushing rose,
From public view her charms will screen,
And rarely in the crowd be seen;
This simple truth snall keep her wise,
" The fairest fruits attract the flies."

One night a glow-worm, proud and vain,
Contemplating her glitt'ring train,
Cry'd, sure there never was in nature
So elegant, so fine a creature.
· All other insects, that I fee,
The frugal ant, industrious bee,
Or filk-worm, with contempt I view;
With all that low, mechanic

crew,
Who servilely their lives employ
In business, enemy to joy.
Mean, vulgar herd ! ye are my scorn,
For grandeur only I was born,
Or fure am sprung from race divine,
And plac'd on earth, to live and fine.
Those lights, that sparkle so on high,
Are bat the glow-worms of the sky,

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And kings on earth their gems admire,
Because they imitate my fire.

She spoke. Attentive on a spray,
A Nightingale forbore his lay;
He saw the shining morsel near,
And few, directed by the glare;
A while he gaz'd with sober look,
And thus the trembling prey bespoke :

Deluded fool, with pride elate,
Know, 'tis thy beauty brings thy fate:
Less dazzling, long thou might't have lain
Unheeded on the velvet plain :
Pride, soon or late, degraded mourns,
And beauty wrecks whom she adorns.

HYM E N and DeÁT H.

Sixteen

Ixteen, dy'e say? nay then 'tis time,

Another year destroys your prime.
But stay—the settlement! “That's made."
Why then's my simple girl afraid?
Yet hold a moment, if you can,
And heedfully the fable scan.

'The shades were fled, the morning blush'd, The winds were in their caverns hush'd

When

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